Chapter 3

Sophia POV

I was brought back to the Shaw mansion.

Not to my room, but to the servants' quarters.

"Tristan said you don't deserve to live upstairs."

The housekeeper threw me a moldy blanket. "Sophia, behave yourself. Now Linda is in charge of the Shaw family."

I made the bed and lay down on it.

The bed board was very hard, making my bones ache.

In the middle of the night, someone knocked on the door.

It was Linda.

She wore silk pajamas and held a cup of hot milk in her hands.

"Sophia, are you asleep?"

Linda pushed the door open and fanned the air with her hand in disgust. "This place really stinks. Only you could get used to living here."

I sat up and leaned against the wall. "Do you need something?"

"I'm trying on my wedding dress tomorrow. You have to come."

Linda put the milk on the table. "Tristan said you have to kneel and arrange my train. Just like five years ago, when you knelt in front of that investor."

My body tensed.

That time I knelt was to beg the other party to spare Tristan.

In Tristan's eyes, it became evidence of my degradation.

"Okay," I said.

Linda froze.

Her eyes rolled, and suddenly she splashed the hot milk on my face.

The scalding liquid flowed down my cheeks, burning my skin red.

"Oops, my hand slipped."

Linda laughed, throwing the empty cup on the floor. "Sophia, don't blame me. Blame yourself for having a worthless life. Tristan said keeping you alive is just to let you watch us be happy."

I wiped the milk stains from my face.

Very hot, but better than the cold in my heart.

"I know."

I looked at Linda. "I wish you two will be together forever and always be happy."

Linda was infuriated by my reaction.

"Sophia, what are you acting so noble for! That bastard of yours has already been aborted, so why are you still hanging around here?"

Bastard.

That was Tristan's child.

My hands gripped the sheets tightly.

"Linda."

I raised my head, my eyes frighteningly calm. "I'll leave. Once you're married, I'll leave right away. I won't be an eyesore."

Linda felt uneasy from my gaze. She cursed "crazy woman" and turned to leave.

I got out of bed and washed my face with cold water.

The face in the mirror had a large burn, red and swollen.

I didn't need medicine.

This pain could keep me sober.

I pulled out the signed termination agreement from under my pillow.

Every word on it reminded me: Tristan had long stopped wanting me.

I persisted for five years, for that promise, for that ridiculous love.

Now it was time to wake from the dream.

The next day.

The bridal shop.

Linda wore a custom wedding dress worth tens of millions, standing on the fitting platform.

Tristan sat on the sofa, holding a magazine, but his eyes kept glancing toward the corner.

I knelt on the floor.

I held a needle and thread, repairing a snag in the train.

Linda had deliberately damaged it and insisted I fix it on the spot.

"Ouch!" Linda suddenly cried out. "You pricked me!"

She kicked my shoulder.

I wasn't prepared and fell backward, my hand pressing into the pin box on the floor.

Several long needles pierced my palm. Blood welled up.

"What happened?"

Tristan put down the magazine and strode over.

"Tristan, she did it on purpose!" Linda accused him with red-rimmed eyes. "She's jealous of me and deliberately pricked my leg with the needle!"

Tristan glanced at Linda's leg. Not even a red mark.

Then he looked at me.

Blood was still dripping from my palm, the drops falling on the pure white wedding train, especially conspicuous.

"You got it dirty."

Tristan frowned, his tone disgusted. "Sophia, why is your blood so filthy?"

I hid my hand behind my back.

"I'm sorry."

I lowered my head. "I'll compensate you."

"Can you afford it?" Tristan sneered. "Even if you sold yourself, you wouldn't be worth this corner of the dress."

He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped Linda's non-existent wound.

As for the blood all over my hand, he turned a blind eye.

"Go wash it clean."

He ordered, "Don't bring the bloody smell to the wedding. It's unlucky."

I crawled up and staggered toward the bathroom.

Behind me came Linda's coquettish voice. "Tristan, send her away. I'm scared just looking at her."

"Endure it for a few days."

Tristan's voice came through. "After the wedding is over, send her to the African branch. Let her atone there for the rest of her life."

Africa.

I turned on the faucet, washing the blood from my hand.

He'd already arranged my escape route.

Unfortunately, he miscalculated one thing.

Dead people can't go to Africa.